Fun at the Flower Show!
by silverducks
Summary: When Matthew is pushed into presenting the annual Downton Village Flower Show, it doesn't go very well and all manner of problems ensue. A fun and fluffy Mary/Matthew fic.


_Here's a Mary/Matthew one shot written for the tumblr prompt:_

"Matthew trying to do something Earl-ish and proper for Mary's sake even though he obviously sucks at it, and her finding it endearing."

_It was initially meant as a drabble, but like always, it just got longer and longer! I've decided to keep it all as one long one-shot story, rather than split it up and post it in my usual chapters. I hope it works ok like this._

_I hope you enjoy reading!  
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><p>To say that Matthew was good at public speaking was quite an overstatement. Everyone assumed he was, of course, being a solicitor and a captain in the army. But if anyone had bothered asking Matthew, he would have explained quite persuasively that his role as a solicitor involved much more paper work than litigation and commanding his men in the trenches under the stresses and duresses of war was a very different matter entirely. However, no one did ask Matthew and so here he found himself, clutching his few sheets of paper in his hands, his face ashen white as he prepared to take the stage at the Downton Village Flower Show.<p>

"It's all right, darling, you'll be fine." Mary gently stroked his back and he instinctively relaxed into her, delighting in the warmth of her presence so close behind him. She was wrong though, it wouldn't be alright and Matthew wondered again how precisely he'd found himself in this terrible mess! It had been his wife's fault, of course, but he decided against telling her that now. He supposed some measure of guilt could be laid at his door, but really, he didn't know what else he could have done!

Cousin Violet was ill. She'd protested against the diagnosis, of course, she was the Dowager Countess after all and she'd not had a day of illness in the 30 long years she'd run Downton Abbey. Her arguments were rather interrupted by her coughing in the middle, but her croaky voice was still just as domineering and sharp as ever. Mary's father had just about managed to convince her that she couldn't, in all fairness, preside over the flower show whilst she was coughing so. After all, what ever would the people of Downton think seeing their steadfast Dowager Countess so ailing?

She had relented on that score and that score alone, but it did leave them with the rather difficult conundrum of just who could take over. His mother, who unfortunately was present at the time, couldn't have piped up quicker in offering her services, but the look on Cousin Violet's face meant prompt action was definitely needed, and fast.

Mary's quick thinking had saved them all, though sadly it had been Matthew who'd rather been dropped in the thick of it. Her solution that Matthew should present the flower show was quickly established by everyone present before Matthew could even formulate a single argument against it.

"It'd be excellent practice for your future role as Earl, Matthew." Robert had said.

"What a fantastic way for the people of Downton to get to know you better," Cora had offered.

"I suppose even a solicitor would be better than a nurse." Violet had remarked, her severe cold doing nothing to weaken her wit.

Even his mother had quickly relinquished her own idea of taking over, after glaring at the Dowager countess, though Matthew suspected she was not without her own motives in doing so.

"Then it is settled," Mary had announced, "Matthew will present this year's flower show."

When everyone then turned towards him, their faces eager and acceptant, Matthew stumbled for the right words to say. He'd glanced at his wife for assistance, but the silent urging and pride in her eyes made him quite forget his own protests and before he quite knew what he was doing, he'd agreed to their plan.

Now, after several weeks of increasing anxiety, enough mentions from his mother about Mr Molesley Senior's roses to last several lifetimes and a suspicious amount of increased attention from certain members of the village, the flower show had finally arrived. Of course, he hadn't told anyone of his worries about presenting the show, but he doubted his wife was oblivious to his unease over the last few weeks. The fact that he had constantly gone through his speech, checked and treble checked the preparations and had even been caught flicking through the pages of horticultural books may have also been a clue. So her warm presence at his back now, her hand gently rubbing along his arm and her comforting smile when he turned towards her were both reassuring and soothing, helping to boost his confidence. They didn't settle his nerves though, if anything his anxiety increased at the fear of disappointing her. But the clapping had started now, his father in law was beaming at him from across the hall and his wife was pushing him gently forwards. He stumbled, his body unwilling to move, but he caught his feet quick and hastily headed towards the stage, before anything else could go wrong. He reached the centre of the platform and looked out across the sea of faces before him. There was his mother beaming, conveniently standing with the Mosesley's; his mother and father in law and Edith all looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to start. At least Violet, despite her insistence, wasn't here and he swallowed nervously, trying to find some air in which to breathe, let alone speak. His eyes finally rested on Mary, at her smiling, proud face, a comforting love and support in her eyes as she silently encouraged him to begin.

Matthew couldn't help but smile back at his beautiful wife, always so loving and supportive. It helped ground him and he looked back out at the crowd, his smile only faltering slightly as he began, with only one last glance at his notes, "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 67th Downton village flower show."

As the clapping died down, Matthew continued with his speech, his voice growing firmer with every word he uttered. The speech he'd learned so painstakingly began to flow forth naturally and he found himself relaxing, his confidence growing. That was until he came to the point of announcing the winners. He didn't have any clue who would win as he'd politely declined being invited onto the interview panel, so when he opened the fancy rolled parchment announcing the winners, his eyes widened in alarm. The names by each one all became a blur as he focused on the very last entry. The winner of the Grantham Cup for the best bloom in the village was blank. No carefully written name appeared next to the prestigious prize and Matthew felt his earlier panic returning, overwhelming him. His mind stumbled around the problem, trying to work out what to do, for he dared not mention it, suspecting the error had been intentional.

He looked up quickly at the expectant faces before him, the smile on his family's faces taking on a new meaning as he now understood the new challenge the future earl had been presented with. He quickly looked away, down again, as if that would somehow cause a name to magically appear. It didn't, and neither did staring at the blank space in intense concentration bring forth any solution.

"So who's the winners then?" A voice called from the crowd and Matthew looked up to seek out the speaker. It was a young chap, a farm hand Matthew vaguely recognised as recently moving to the village.

"Errr," he began, as articulately as he could manage. He quickly looked down at the parchment in front of him, but the words were still all a blur in his panic. The few laughs that followed forced him to concentrate though, and the letters started to swim together again. "The winner of the best root vegetable goes to..." The words became blurry once more and he blinked a few times to focus, "Mrs Bucket."

Matthew looked up quickly when the announcement was met with a few more laughs. "That ain't 'ow y' say it!" The same man called out and another voice followed, "Ay! Mrs Bucket will 'av y' head on a plate if y' say it like that again."

"My apologies." He nodded politely at the woman who approached the stage, hoping his face didn't look quite as red as the beetroots she'd been awarded the prize for.

"It's pronounced _Bouquet_," the woman replied proudly, but she smiled at him courteously enough as she shook his clammy hand. The correction brought forth a few more laughs and Matthew felt his face grow an even deeper shade of red. He quickly looked down again, trying to hide from the attention.

Matthew managed, somehow, to get through the rest of the prizes without too much further calamity, and his face and heartbeat had even started to return to normal levels of intensity, when he reached the very last prize. Everyone knew that this, the Grantham Cup, was the most celebrated prize of all and who won it would be the pride of the flower show. Everyone's faces looked at him eagerly as a hush filled the room and breaths were held in anticipation.

"And the winner…of the Grantham Cup… for the best bloom…in the village… goes to..." He said the words slowly, his nerves once more showing, pausing as often as he could in the hope that delay would cause a solution to present itself. None came and as he reached the final word he searched the crowd before him in vain. There were his in-laws, their faces proud and beaming; a few servants from the house nudging each other and casting glances over at the Dowager Countess' gardener, here in her stead. Then there were the villagers he vaguely recognised, their eyes darting around the room as they wondered who would take home the coveted prize. Finally, his eyes settled on his mother, her face more eager than the rest as she glanced expectantly and repeatedly at Mr Molesley Senior. Before Matthew was even aware he'd reached a decision, the words poured out, "Mr William Molesley, for his…his… roses."

The silence was deafening for a few moments, but before any congratulations or applause could begin, the voice Matthew was quickly beginning to dislike piped up again, "Ain't he y' butler's father?"

"Ay! He is, ain't he!" Another voice called out over the few disquiet murmurings that had begun.

"Errr, yes, he is, but…" Matthew answered weakly, eyeing the men in concern. He recognised the type from the war, the sort to grow restless and stir up trouble, starting arguments and fights in the trenches. As a captain, he'd had no trouble bringing them under control, but here it was quite a different matter entirely. He simply didn't know what to do, so he feebly continued, "It's the committee who decides the winners..." Guilt washed over him as he said that, for it was a blatant lie and he feared what would happen should this become known. He tried to think of what else he could say, for the mutterings were growing worse and Matthew feared a fight may even break out between them.

He was saved though, for at that moment Mary walked forwards, her graceful elegance as dazzling as her smile as she approached the winner. "Congratulations Mr Molesley!"

The applause started almost immediately after, though tense and nervous at first, and his mother's voice could clearly be heard ringing above the rest as she called out her own congratulations. The noise of the clapping helped to dissipate the men's restlessness and they very soon joined in the applause themselves. Their eyes also followed Mary distractedly as she shook the winner's hand and led him towards the stage. Matthew would have been annoyed at their leering looks if it wasn't for his relief that disaster had been diverted.

"Congratulations Mr Molesley" Matthew said, his voice surprisingly firm as he reached out to shake the man's hand before handing him the prestigious Grantham Cup.

After a few more words of congratulations, Mr Molesley rejoined his proud son and then, with all eyes now turned away, Matthew made a hasty exit and quickly left the stage.

He was pleased to find his wife and their family waiting at the bottom of the stairs and the encouraging smile lighting their faces helped ease some of the tension and nerves still plaguing him.

"I am so very pleased Mr Molesley won, Matthew," his mother exclaimed eagerly as soon as he reached the bottom of the steps. "He really is so delighted that all his hard work is being recognised again."

"Quite," was all the reply Matthew could think of, but he glanced at his in laws for a moment. Their beaming, proud faces revealed nothing save that if it had been a test, he appeared to have passed, somehow. Matthew decided it was probably best not to mention the error, or his own hand in choosing the winner.

"I think some congratulations are due to you, as well Matthew," Mary said, her smile brightening and helping to reassure Matthew further.

"Yes, well done, Matthew," Robert gently clapped him on the back, his voice sounding proud, if a little strained.

"Thank you," Matthew smiled faintly in appreciation, his eyes cast down in apology. "I'm sorry for the trouble though; I didn't really know what to do."

"Nonsense, those men were just out to cause trouble, there was nothing you could have done," Cora added reassuringly.

Matthew decided not to add that he doubted anything like that would have happened had Violet been the one presenting, though the shadow crossing their faces indicated they all shared similar thoughts. Before anyone could think of anything to ease the slight tension between them, a guest appeared behind Robert, seeking his attention. A moment later, with a polite nod of excuse, the rest of the family turned away and he was left facing only his wife.

Her hands reached out to take his own and he stepped towards her, not quite able to meet her eyes as he looked down earnestly. Of all the family, it really was his wife's opinion that mattered the most and he knew she at least would be truthful with him. "I'm sorry I made such a mess of it all, Mary. I hope I didn't embarrass you too much."

"Nonsense," Mary replied, her tone warm and comforting as she gently ran her fingers across his. Mathew looked up as she continued, "You did a good job, all things considered."

Matthew narrowed his eyes at her, whilst he appreciated her efforts at placating him, he didn't quite trust her serene tone, nor the way her smile widened and her eyes started to sparkle in mischief. Looking down bashfully for a moment, Mary continued, "Though I think we should refrain from telling Granny that a fight nearly broke out at her beloved flower show."

A soft laugh escaped Matthew's lips at her joke, pleased that she was being truthful with him and was amused rather than annoyed at his poor performance at playing earl. "And I'm sure it would have if you hadn't stepped in quick." He smiled down at her again as they began to walk away from the stage, his arm sneaking coyly around her waist. "Thank you, Mary." He wanted to thank her properly then, as much for his own sake as for hers, but there were too many witnesses about, so he settled for drawing her nearer and gently running his hand along her back.

"As the wife of the future earl, Matthew, it's my job to step in and prevent you causing trouble and besmirching the family name."

"And I consider myself very lucky to have a wife so worthy of the task." And he meant it, as her help today proved yet again how much he needed and relied upon her and her experience and knowledge of running a great estate like Downton, which would one day be their own. He couldn't have asked for a more perfect wife and, despite the crowd around them, he thought it safe enough to kiss her gently on the forehead in appreciation.

Mary took hold of his arm and smiled up at him, her smile far more genuine than her teasing voice as she replied, "And so you should, Matthew. You are incredibly lucky to have me when you manage to create such calamity at a simple village flower show!"

"I am sorry, Mary," Matthew apologised, his guilt at causing so much mayhem outweighing the knowledge that she was only teasing. "I fear I should refrain from presenting the flower show altogether in the future."

"And I doubt anyone would let you anyway!" Mary reprimanded teasingly. But she stopped then, and turned towards him so they were facing each other. "Though why were you so nervous, Matthew? You seemed to be alright again after giving the speech."

"Because your parents hadn't nominated anyone for the prize of the Grantham Cup! And I didn't have a clue who to give the prize to!"

When Mary's eyes widened in alarm, Matthew at least could erase his suspicion that Mary was in on the trick, for she appeared quite as surprised as he had been. "Oh dear, Matthew. You don't think it was a deliberate mistake, do you?"

"I'm not sure, Mary." They both looked across at her parents, but Lord and Lady Grantham were too busy talking to a crowd of villagers to notice. With a sigh, Matthew decided to let the matter drop. Whether it had been an intentional mistake he'd never know, and it mattered little now anyway.

Instead, Matthew turned towards his wife again as Mary began speaking. "Still, despite the near fight, it was quite amusing watching you struggle through." She smiled up at him as she stepped a little closer, her voice now becoming flirtatious. She reached out and gently pulled on the lapels of his jacket, her fingers gently skimming across his chest.

Matthew suppressed the shiver that ran through him at the touch and replied in feigned annoyance, "Well, I'm glad my embarrassment and misery amused you. At least it was good for something!"

"Oh, it was good for more than that! You provided much more entertainment than Granny ever could." She looked around surreptitiously, before taking him by the arm and leading him towards a more secluded corner of the hall. She faced him again, but stood closer this time, her hands once again fiddling with his jacket, pressing against his chest. She looked down bashfully for a moment, her smile coy and flirtatious. "I have to confess, Matthew, I did find your performance rather endearing and…" Mary paused a moment and looked up again, sliding her hands further up his chest, pretending to straighten his jacket if anyone glanced across at them. She leant closer as she continued, her voice deep and low, "Appealing..."

As she looked up at him, Matthew saw the meaning clear in her darkened eyes and his breath caught in his throat. He had to fight hard to resist the urge to lean in towards her, clenching his fists slightly so he didn't wrap them around her inviting waist. He glanced around quickly, worried they had an audience. No one seemed to be paying them any heed, but Matthew didn't dare move any closer. It didn't help though that Mary took a step closer to him and her fingers crept slowly up his chest to rest on his shoulders, gently swiping away at some imaginary dust in honour of their possible watchers.

"I… I'm glad to hear that, Mary." Matthew said, feeling embarrassingly tongue tied all of a sudden. It was as if all his anxiety and nerves over the last few weeks with the flower show had somehow twisted into an entirely different emotion altogether. One he was trying very hard to suppress as he tried to force his eyes away from his wife's seductive gaze and her red, plump lips which had turned up into a playful smirk. He swallowed nervously, pushing away thoughts of just how much he wanted to kiss her. He doubted he'd even be able to manage a chaste kiss to her cheek. Instead, he tried to focus his mind on something else and managed to continue speaking, his voice surprisingly calm and somewhat flirtatious. "After all, I am rather in your debt for saving the day."

"And I fully expect you to thank me properly, later." Her voice dropped lower on the last word, her pronunciation slow as her eyes dropped coyly.

Matthew gulped as she leant closer still, his fingernails digging into his palms as he tried to keep them still. "Of course, Mary." He managed to keep his voice steady as he continued, "But you are not without some blame." As she looked up at him in confusion, her flirtatious smirk dropping slightly and Matthew continued playfully, "After all, it was your idea that I present the flower show in the first place!"

At least then Mary had the decency to look down bashfully and step away slightly, allowing Matthew a small measure of relief, though he did rather miss the warmth of her so close. "Yes, you're right, dear. I am sorry to have caused you such worry. Perhaps…" Her guilty, shameful look slipped as she looked back up at him again, "We can call it even?"

Even if he'd wanted to, Matthew wouldn't have been able to find the words to argue then, for at that moment Mary not only moved closer towards him again, but slowly reached down, trailing her hands across his chest to take his hands and gently thread her fingers through them.

"I think that's a good plan," Matthew replied, his voice becoming heavy, almost hoarse at his wife's actions and the feel of her so close in such a public setting. He glanced around nervously again, but the hall was growing quiet now, most of the villagers having left and the family still over on the far side, deep in conversation. Whether they were being polite and deliberately ignoring them, Matthew wasn't sure, but he did know that his wife was proving far too much of a distraction and something had to be done. "Perhaps we should go outside for some fresh air, maybe begin making our way back to the house?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Matthew," Mary answered, threading her arm through his and hastily leading him out the side door.

If any of the family noticed Mary and Matthew's suspicious exit, they made no comment. For it was not the first time the young couple were known to have sneaked off and they all doubted it would be their last. They also knew there was no point in trying to find them and instead let them be.

**THE END**

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><p><em>I hope you enjoyed reading and reviews are always very, very welcome! I'm also very curious to know if you thought it flowed ok as one longish one-shot story.<em>

_Oh and the Bucket/Bouquet reference is borrowed from the great BBC sitcom, Keeping up Appearances! :-)  
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